Chapter Two
J eter felt the need to set the woman at ease. “Forgive my older brother for his rudeness. His runaway bride left at his groom's dinner. He’s a little grumpy.”
Of course, his brother losing his fiancé didn’t actually hurt him. Piss him off that she’d run off with her lover? Absofuckinglutely. Hell, Jeter didn’t doubt Kendrick would’ve been okay if Paula Rizzo had broken things off with him the proper way. Instead, she’d sent her younger sister Taysey to do her dirty work.
“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry. The first drink is on the house. What can I get you?”
Those sparkling eyes filled with sadness for his brother while he wanted to see what other emotions he could get them to showcase, not for his brother, but for him.
“I’ll take a Maker’s on the rocks. Three cubes of ice.” Kendrick turned away from the bartender to look over the bar, leaving Jeter to order.
“I’ll have the same. Without his attitude.” He pointed over his shoulder.
Kendrick grunted. “I swear by all you hold dear, if you keep pushing my buttons, Jeter, I will drown you in the Chicago River.”
Jeter shook his head. “He won’t, really. I’m his baby brother, and besides, I’m our mother’s favorite. I’m Jeter, by the way. This is Kendrick, but you can ignore him.”
“I’m Tori.” She finished making his drinks with a slight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
He reached for the two squat glasses she placed on the bar. Her hands looked much less shaken than when they’d entered. “Nice to meet you, Tori.”
“I have a feeling you’re the troublemaker,” she said.
Her voice was a husky, smoky tone that made him think of sex and long nights of making love.
Shit, he needed to get his head on straight. He’d never thought of sex and making love. Fucking, yes. Making love? He wasn’t sure he believed in fairytales like the ones sold to little girls. Hell, he’d never told another soul other than his family he loved them. If there was one thing he’d claim to be, it was honest.
“You’d be correct. From the moment Jeter was born, he was a mama’s boy, but he was a little shit. The only reason he’s still alive is because our madre forbade me from killing him.” Kendrick took a sip of his drink, then drained his glass. “One more, please.”
Fuck, the fact they were in a bar wasn’t alarming. Hell, his brother having two large glasses of his favorite bourbon didn’t bother him. However, Jeter wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on inside Kendrick’s head.
In the backroom sat a group staring daggers at them. Jeter mentally noted the number of men, recognizing the soldiers posted against the walls and who he assumed was the consigliere next to the Boss, along with a few other men Jeter figured were high-ranking members. Which Family they belonged to, they’d know shortly.
“Calderone, how’s it going?” A booming voice called out.
“Shit,” he mumbled, setting his drink on the bar as his brother turned and started walking toward the table.
He looked at the woman. “Go into the back, find a room, and lock the door. Do not call the cops, and whatever happens, don’t come out here unless I come and get you or—”
“What’s happening?” she asked in a low tone.
Jeter leaned across the counter. “Listen, Cara, I need you to do as I say for your safety.” He didn’t have time to see that she followed his orders. His brother was his priority. As he was the only backup Kendrick had, he needed to stay focused. With measured strides, he turned and followed Kendrick.
“Sorry you couldn’t make it to the groom’s dinner tonight, Grigori. Of course, you must’ve known your daughter would do a runner,” Kendrick said without heat.
Holy shit. Kendrick didn’t pull his punches. Calling out his ex-fiancée’s father to his face was ballsy. Instead of being home upset at his daughter for running out on her wedding, lamenting all the money they’d lost to caterers and the deposits they’d surely put down, Grigori was drinking with his friends at a bar. What the fuck was going on?
Grigori spread his arms wide. “I’m sorry, Calderone, my figliola only informed me of her desires this morning. As you must know, you can’t make someone love you. When my child came to me and told me she loved another, I couldn’t force her to go through with the wedding. It’s why I’m here drowning my sorrows.” He let out a sigh. “I was going to come to you with an offer to make amends.”
Kendrick swirled the ice in his glass, waiting a few seconds as if contemplating his words. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Since you have a sister of marriage age, and I need a wife to keep me in line, I have a proposal that would be mutually beneficial for both of us. And it would be my way of apologizing for what you went through today. An alliance through marriage of your sister and myself instead of you and my daughter will bring together our two families,” he said, sitting back with a satisfied grin.
Jeter’s entire body jerked. A murderous gleam flashed in Kendrick’s eyes, but then it was gone. If he hadn’t been watching his brother closely, he’d have missed it and was sure the other man only saw the calm facade Kendrick portrayed. Huge mistake. Their sister was only twenty-two, but she’d cut their dicks off with a rusty knife before she’d ever agree to marry anyone, let alone a fat old fuck.
“Let me get this straight.” Kendrick rolled his head back and forth between his shoulders. Jeter shuddered as his brother’s neck cracked several times before Kendrick continued speaking, “You propose I allow you, a nearly sixty-year-old man, to marry my gorgeous, twenty-two-year-old baby sister, whom you’ve never met, in place of me and your thirty-three-year-old daughter? Never mind the fact I was in a relationship with Paulina for over four years. Have been fucking her since the night I met her, and you think that makes your marriage proposal decent? Have you lost your fucking mind?” Kendrick finished his questioning. He popped a piece of ice into his mouth as if he were discussing the weather.
Jeter tensed while his brother crunched on ice, wondering how his brother stayed so calm. Kendrick admitting to fucking the man’s daughter since day one might not mean shit to most, but in their world, the level of disrespect was clear.
Shit, he was good at killing, but he didn’t think he could take out more than three, maybe four, of the men around the room before getting taken down.
“You got balls, Calderone. I’ll give you that. Not that I wouldn’t react the same if I were in your shoes. Women are treacherous little things, even figlia mia. However, I blame Masseria. He came in and swooped her off her feet,” Grigori said and sat back.
Kendrick shrugged. “As I said, it’s no loss to me. I don’t need to save face because your daughter did a runner the night before our wedding. The fact she ran off with the capo bastone of the Masseria Family is strange, though.”
“You don’t think it will make you look weak that you couldn’t keep your woman—satisfied? And what do you mean, strange? What’re you suggesting, Calderone?”
Grigori tried to taunt him with his words, but they’d missed their mark. Jeter’s brother chuckled and shrugged. Shit, he wondered what the fuck he’d gotten himself in the middle of? Not that he was opposed to war. The Royal Sons did all kinds of shit that bordered on the line of legal. They frequently had to get rid of evidence by any means possible, whether they had to bury, dispose of, or feed to things that would eliminate any trace. However, he always had backup that came with backup. Kendrick stood in his three thousand dollar suit, looking calm as can be. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he was an efficient killer with his hands or any weapon available. Jeter was secure in both of their abilities. Even outnumbered, they both had skills they’d learned when most kids were playing kickball.
“As you’re aware, there’s always a line of women to replace your daughter. I only need to snap my fingers to have one or two in my bed. If there are any who are foolish enough to think because a buttana left me for another makes me weak, then they’re the idiot. You see, I’m not taking the sloppy seconds.” Kendrick popped another ice cube into his mouth.
The sound of someone choking had him eyeing a man with beer spewing out of his mouth. The idiot muttered loud enough for others to hear, “Holy shit, is he for real?”
Jeter figured the man would end up dead or wishing he was by the night's end.
“You dare to call my daughter a whore?” Grigori’s face turned an angry shade of red.
“I was speaking in general, of course.” Kendrick waved his glass toward the men against the wall. “You gentlemen doing okay?”
Jeter eyed those who’d tensed. Worried Kendrick was poking the fucking bears. His hand itched to reach for the gun tucked in the back of his slacks.
Deafening silence followed his brother’s question, broken by the large door opening. Jeter had to force himself not to turn toward the entrance. How the fuck was this going to play out?
Shit.
Now he could pull his gun and start shooting those against the wall he considered the biggest threat or off Grigori first. Or he could take himself out and save the fuckers the time and effort. Dammit, he hated being off-kilter.
TORI SENT A PRAYER heavenward when the men moved away from the bar. She ignored the sexy man’s order, having no intention of going anywhere, especially to a backroom and hiding. For one, if the Mafia men started shooting, they’d search for any witnesses, including her, no matter where she was in the building. For two, she preferred being aware of danger and facing it head-on. Sometimes, running toward danger is the only way to truly find yourself. For the past four years, one of the biggest lessons she’d learned was you had to believe in yourself, even when the world tells you otherwise. So, while scared shitless knowing there were a dozen armed men like those she’d grown up around, ready to kill one another, Tori would rather watch it go down than be in a dark room, cowering like a scared little rabbit.
Ugh, the melodrama running through her mind made her hate the Mafia more than ever, and that said a lot. Hopefully, she’d survive the evening along with the two sexy as fuck men who might be bad guys, and then she could start fresh somewhere else. Maybe Hawaii? She always wanted to visit the islands where she only had to worry about what bikini to wear.
Her breath froze in her throat the moment she heard the name Masseria. The gorgeous man’s fiancée ran off with someone who had the same last name as her, which sure could be coincidental, but she knew it wasn’t. The Masseria name wasn’t common. In fact, they were Sicilian and considered a form of royalty.
Blood pounded in her ears. Her hands trembled. Fear she’d fought to overcome tried to push past her defenses. This scared girl wasn’t who she wanted to be. Tori squatted down behind the bar, knowing Cian and the others could see her and the others through the surveillance cameras. Part of her didn’t care if she fell apart, and they saw. The other refused to give in.
“I’m stronger than that,” she whispered, fisting her hands on her bent thighs.
A lump of emotion she refused to name formed in her throat, threatening to grow thicker with each passing second. Her eyelids drifted closed on memories of her stumbling upon her mother’s lifeless body. She was only a child and shouldn’t have been at the party, yet her stepfather demanded she be in attendance. He maintained his reasoning was to keep her safe, but he couldn’t even protect his wife. What a liar.
The dark abyss would swallow her if she didn’t concentrate on reality. Hearing one name triggered her, making her ashamed. Dammit, she was better than that. She needed to be tough, and Tori was tough.
The tinkle of the bell above the door jarred her from her thoughts. It was the mighty pull she needed.
Without any finesse, she pushed to her feet, sighing at the sight of her boss. If she were smart, she’d use his entrance as a distraction and exit through the door he’d just entered through, get into her vehicle, and head out of town as fast and far as she could.
“Gentlemen, how’re you doing this evening?” Cian asked as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Tori shifted on the balls of her feet, exhaling a low breath. Cian and two other men entered the bar with an air of authority she recognized. The jilted man, named Kendrick, looked over his shoulder and lifted his glass. Although handsome and exuding danger, the other man appealed to her. Which meant she was losing her ever-loving mind, because he exuded a bad boy's energy and sex appeal that was way out of her league. She had no business thinking about a man like him.
“Good to see you, Cian. Sorry, I didn’t call to let you know I was coming down for a drink.”
There were similarities between the men she hadn’t seen before. Of course, Cian hadn’t been in the same room with Mafia members and her at the same time. No, it was more than that. She hadn’t wanted to see it. Ugh, that wasn’t it. The Hoolihan’s were good people who’d been nothing but kind to her. Her resolve set, and she planned to stick to it.
All she had to do was live through the fucking night and get the hell out of Chicago. Maybe she could catch the first flight in the morning to a really cold place. Not that the Masseria family was averse to cold weather, but they preferred places like Colorado or New York with all the glitz and glamour their money could buy. She would steer clear of areas that catered to the rich. Places with cool bars like Hoolihan’s obviously got marked off the list. The thought was totally absurd, but so was the situation. At any moment, she could picture the guys pulling out their guns like in an old western or an Al Pacino movie. Say hello to my little friend reverberated in her mind.
Tori bit her lip to avoid making a sound and bringing attention to herself. Unlike the other men, Cian wore expensive denim jeans and a polo shirt that hugged his upper body, showing off his muscular chest and arms. She’d always admired his physique and thought he and his wife had made a gorgeous couple. The other two men with him wore dark jeans with button-down shirts over fitted T-shirts tucked in. Like Cian, they all had a similar build. Any other time, she’d have admired how the fabric molded to the well-defined pecs of their muscular frames. Instead, she watched them walk purposefully without looking in her direction.
Watching their movements, she noticed Cian’s arms were slightly red. They must’ve been in too big a hurry to get to the bar to grab coats on their way out the door. She couldn’t help but take a tiny bit of pleasure at their predicament, silently hoping their man nipples were cold on the drive over.
“No worries, Kendrick. You know you’re always welcome here,” Cian said, emphasizing the words you and you’re , eyeing the group with a smirk.
Tori thought she heard someone curse, but silence followed Cian’s statement for a long moment. Several men seemed to find the floor or a spot on the high ceiling fascinating, as if they wouldn’t get involved. Typical bullshit behavior she’d witnessed more times than she could count.